Last Train To Oblivion
by Pandoras-Closet
Summary: Amelia thought her hands were full when she had just her pregnancy and the aliens to deal with . .. and then the coup happened.


**Author's Note: This is a rewrite of a fic of the same name that I'd posted to the Slayers FANatics! mailing list back in the day. If you'd read back then, Enjoy. If not, then you're in for a treat. If you've never heard of the Protoss before, don't worry, I'll fill you in as we go along.**

* * *

Winter had come to Seyrun. With icy fingers, it had taken the city and seemed to be torn between choking it to death and giving it a break. Tonight, Seyrun was getting a break. The sky was clear and the stars shone like diamonds set in blue-black velvet. 

Sighing, Princess Amelia Wil Tesla Seyrun, Ruler of Seyrun, Champion of Justice, Captain of the Western Islands, Governor of the Brodaboon Territories, and Boon Companion to Lina Inverse, the Dragon Slayer, slapped her hand against the leaded glass. "They don't respect me," she said softly. "I don't know how Father did it."

Amelia was tall and slender, with short ebony black hair and icy-blue eyes, her body having finally made good on the promises of her youth. Under her robe, that body was rock hard muscle and steel sinews. A weapon forged over a decade of walking back and forth across the continent. Even here in her rooms, a sword was belted at her waist and a knife was in her boot. Only a fool relied totally on one weapon and Amelia had stopped being a fool a few years ago. She had another reason for the weapons as well. She was a month pregnant and her magic would be unreliable for the length of the pregnancy.

"They will in time," said the only other person in the room. He was not quite as tall as Amelia, with pale blue skin and wiry purple hair that fell over one eye. His skin appeared to be studded with rocks, and he wore a tan tunic and pants. Black boots were on his feet and like Amelia, he too wore a sword. His name was Zelgadis. "I'm sure Prince Philionel had to prove himself when he took the throne." He turned the page of the book he was reading.  
Once upon a time, he and Amelia could have been lovers, but events had gone in other directions. Nowadays, despite rumors otherwise, they were simply friends.  
As for Amelia, maturity and her impending motherhood had wrought a curious change in her. Once famous for her single-minded, perhaps even obsessive pursuit of justice, Amelia had laid that aside in favor of a single-minded, perhaps even obsessive determination to govern Seyrun fairly and properly. She had made mistakes, to be sure, but she only made them once.

Amelia turned away from the window and snatched the crown from the table. "He didn't have half the problems I do!" Amelia shouted. "Gunpowder, there's that whole d--dem--" She paused, groping for the word, and failed. "Government by the people thing, and on top of that, there's those . . . Cephid cultists cropping up by the handful. I could care less who worships what, but what gives them the idea that the God of the Dragons gives an arse about their problems?"

"Too much ale, perhaps," Zelgadis suggested.

Amelia glared at him and then set the crown back on the table. "All they're trying to do is force their own moral authority on me. I can't let them do that. I won't let Seyrun become a theocracy, Zelgadis, and I won't be a figurehead."

Zelgadis opened his mouth to reply when both of the them were hurled to the ground as the entire palace shook with an earsplitting roar and the sound of shattering glass.

* * *

Repairing the damage was easy in a city full of mages, priests, wizards and sorcerers. Finding out what caused the damage was something else. 

Dawn poured through the windows of the council chamber and onto the Round Table, a huge stump from a tree that had been treated with a preservation spell and placed there when the room had been built. Carved into the table was a map of Seyrun and around the table were twelve chairs. One for Amelia, seven for her advisers, and four for visitors or guests. None of the chairs were higher then the others, signifying that at this table, the lowliest peasant was equal to the highest noble. Indeed, the only sign of rank was that Amelia's chair was slightly larger and more comfortable then the others. A subtle reminder that while all were equal, it was at the throne's pleasure that they served. Zelgadis sat at her left, while Sir Edmund, the head of the Royal Bodyguard, sat at her right. The rest of the council sat where they could. Opposite Amelia, an elderly man in sorcerer's robes sat, an aged hand gripping the wooden staff he held.

"The scrying pools tell us nothing, Princess," the elderly sorcerer said. "We only know that something in Thromkir Valley is sending out some type of energy we cannot penetrate."

"A man heading home from a tavern on Rose Street said he saw something streak out of the sky and towards the west," the commander of the city guard offered.

"Thromkir Valley is a league or so west of Seyrun," Zelgadis noted.

"Unfortunately," the elderly sorcerer continued, "the blizzard from two days ago snowed in the pass. Until it's melted, or at the very least, the weather has cleared enough to permit raywing, there's no way to get there."

Amelia frowned. Thromkir was a large, verdant valley in the middle of the mountains that escaped the worst of the winter snows. Travelers used it to wait out the winter if they were caught in the pass. It was hilly country, mostly open grassland. "I don't like something that can block a scrying pool that close to Seyrun," she said out loud. "We have to get into Thromkir."

"That's impossible, your highness," said Sir Edmund, who was also the chief of Seyrun's military. "No man could get through the snows at this time of year"  
"I can," Zelgadis said softly.

"Madness!" exclaimed another councilor. "You'd freeze to death before you made it anywhere near Thromkir."

"Chimeras don't bother with cold," Zelgadis said. "A fire spell will clear my path." He stood up. "I'm going," he said in a tone of voice that said that he had made up his mind, regardless of what the council decided.

"As you see fit," Amelia said. With Zelgadis, it was really all you could say when he was in that mood.

With a swish of his cloak, Zelgadis left the council room and Amelia looked at the faces of her advisors and shrugged. "Since we're up, gentlemen and lady, we might as well get started on the day"

* * *

The single blue white crystal, cracked almost in half, barely lit the room. Tall, broad-shouldered shapes moved in the darkness beyond its light. 

_Report_

_We are having trouble assessing the damage. We are alive, at least._

_That may prove to be of dubious comfort. _

* * *

Zelgadis had raywinged most of the way to the pass before being forced to the ground by a storm. A fire spell cleared obstructions, a shield spell turned away the slashing snow and ice, and he ignored the cold. 

As only a Chimera could, he slogged through the snow, not stopping, not slowing. He normally kept human hours and mimicked human abilities, partially to set others at ease, partially to hold on to his humanity. But he could go for days without sleeping or eating. While he would do anything to be human, he had to admit (though never out loud) that every so often, Rezo's curse came in handy.

Even so, it had taken him three days to make it through the pass to the entrance to Thromkir Valley. Here, he paused. Night had fallen an hour or so ago, and he swept the valley with his gaze, peering through the snow. He couldn't see anything.

He then turned his thoughts outward. Zelgadis practiced Shamanistic magic, calling on the world around him, the four elements, and animal totems and spirits. As a warrior, he had also developed a certain empathy for his immediate surroundings. You could feel it when you were in danger.

Zelgadis felt no danger, but he wasn't alone either. Both the air and his warrior's instinct told him that someone was out there. He withdrew his thoughts and moved forward. Under his cloak, his hand sought the hilt of his sword even as he looked around for anything that might indicate where the object that had fallen. In the distance, off to his right, something glowed blue and he headed for that.  
Out in the darkness, something followed.

* * *

Bored with snow, Mother Nature had decided to bring rain to Seyrun. It fell from the sky in sheets, sifting out of the sky like wet jewels, hissing as they hit the torch burning fitfully at Seyrun's north gate. 

The travelers were an oddly matched pair. One was taller then the other, riding with the casual, alert ease of a trained warrior. The shorter of the two slumped in its saddle, as though weighed down by the rain or perhaps its own cares. Both rode identical black stallions and wore heavy cloaks.

The gate guard, wrapped in a food-stained green cloak, staggered out from the guardhouse carrying a pike that had seen better days. It was rusty and the guard carried it more as an aid for walking then a weapon. "I'll need your name," he said, in hoarse voice that was thick with drink. The shorter of the travelers regarded the guard for a moment and then a small hand covered by a gray glove emerged from the cloak. A strange ornament adorned the wrist and on the finger was a heavy signet ring that identified the bearer as one of Seyrun's nobles.

"Your Grace," the guard said, eyes widening. "Is there anything I can do for you?" The figure said nothing, but the guard felt as if gazes could set a man on fire, he'd be a charred crisp. Hurriedly, he opened the gate and the two travelers entered and the gate shut behind them.

Amelia muttered to herself, scribbling numbers on a sheet of parchment as she reviewed the sheets of paper spread out on the table before her. The Brodaboon Territories, which Seyrun governed, had turned in their taxes, and something wasn't right. The Exchequer had made a mention of it earlier, and Amelia was having a look for herself. If it was just light skimming, she'd ask Zelgadis to have a chat with the Territory governor. He was so much better at that then she was. The best Amelia had ever been able to manage was a stern stare. Zelgadis could scare people simply by smiling. If it was something else on the other hand, she would have to take sterner measures.  
"Why," she asked herself. "Why did King Wes have to get drunk and sign Brodaboon over to my grandmother?" Shaking her head, Amelia returned her attention to the math only to look up as there was a knock at the door.

"What?" Amelia snapped.

"You have visitors, Highness."  
"I'm not in the mood," Amelia called back. "Give them rooms and I will speak with them in the morning"

"What if it's old friends?" called a woman's voice.

In a flash, Amelia was a across the room and opening the door. Standing there was a short woman. She was shorter then Amelia and her red eyes had a slightly dead look to them, as though she'd seen more then anyone should have. Her firey red hair was streaked with gray, the mark of someone who had tapped deeply into the realms of Black Magic where only the powerful or insane dared to tread. The fact that she was alive at all with just gray hair to show for it said something about her ability . . . or luck.

She wore a red tunic and pants with gray boots and gloves. Red jewels in peculiar settings were at her waist, wrists and the fastening of her inky black cloak. A plain, but functional rapier was belted at her west.

Her companion was a tall man with long blond hair and the slightly vacant expression that marked someone descended from Elven blood. A heavy sword was at his waist and he wore a blue jumpsuit with shoulder and thigh armor over it. He too wore a black cloak. His hand rested on the pommel of the sword in a manner that clearly said he was a warrior and damn good at being one.

"Lina, Gourry," Amelia said with a smile. "Come in, have you eaten yet?"

"No," Gourry said automatically.

"I'm fine," Lina said. She seemed a little agitated.

Amelia raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing else. "Please bring drinks for myself and Lady Inverse," Amelia said to the servant, "and a five course meal for Sir Gabriev." She paused. "Extra large portions."

"Yes, Highness," the servant said with a bow.

"Thank you," Amelia said as she closed the door and turned to face Lina and Gourry. "How have you been?" She asked.

"What's this?" Lina asked, looking at the sheets of parchment on the table.

"Brodaboon's taxes," Amelia said. "The Exchequer thinks they're not being totally honest. I wanted to go over the numbers myself before I decided to do something."

"You might have to anyway," Lina said. "We just came from there. Something's funny"

"What do you mean"

"Just for laughs, I've been tracking Rezo's movements from his days before and while he was the Red Priest. You don't just make a Chimera, it takes planning, and you have to study. However he made Zel, whatever he did to him, Rezo had to learn it somewhere, and that means that there's a shot at a cure." Lina shrugged. "'Sides, I had nothing better to do. Anyways, every decade or so, he spent several months in Brodaboon and Brodaboon was the last place Rezo was seen before he showed up at the Inn where Gourry and I first met him." She paused. "By the way, where is Zel, anyway"

"Something in Thromkir Valley is giving off energy that is blocking attempts to scry. Zelgadis went to have a look for himself. What did you find in Brodaboon"

"Gourry and I were in an Inn and we overheard parts of a conversation we shouldn't have. Brodaboon is apparently full of Cephid cultists. Somebody in the governor's office is financing a rebellion and they're sticking their fingers into Seyrun too. Apparently they have caches of arms and somebody's moving large supplies of gun powder into the area."

Amelia swore under her breath. "Lina, I don't have the military strength to take on all of Brodaboon and most of my troops are from there. How can I ask them to fight their own people."

"City Guard?"

"I can't leave the city undefended, and there's not enough Guard to make a difference." Amelia got up to pace. "I suppose I could issue a draft, but I'd rather not overreact."

"Not overreact?" Lina repeated. "Were you even listening?"

You said you overheard parts of the conversation," Amelia pointed out. "Not the whole conversation. It could be something else"

"What else could it be?" Lina asked. She was, to say the least, impressed. The Amelia of old would have already been charging off to find and confront the perpatrators.This one was keeping her head and looking before she leapt. "At the very least, you're going to want to investigate."

Amelia nodded agreement. "But if they are..." She rubbed her eyes with her hands and then looked up as the door opened and a servant entered, wheeling a cart piled high with food. Behind him came a second servant carrying a tray of drinks.

"Your drinks, Sire, Lady Inverse," Said the servant with the tray of drinks, while the other man set down the food before Gourry, who immediately tucked in with gusto.

"Thank you," Amelia said. "Could you have Sendar come here, please?"

"Certainly."

"Sendar?" Lina asked.

"My chief of staff," Amelia said.

A few moments later, the door opened and a tall man with closely cropped steel gray hair entered. "Sire"

"Call an emergency meeting of my council," Amelia said. "and invite the guild heads. Seyrun may be going to war"

If Sendar was surprised, he gave no sign. "Very good, Sire. But may I suggest that you wait until tomorrow morning? It is already late and it will take time to dispatch messengers and more time for their recipients to come to the palace. They, and you, should be fresh"

Amelia frowned. Sendar was right, damnit. "Very well. Send the messengers to all council members and nobles currently in the city, along with the Guild heads and Heads of the Orders. We meet at dawn"

* * *

He was a teacher. But there was only one student. The student never spoke, in fact, he couldn't even see the student very clearly, but those glowing blue-white eyes demanded, compelled him to teach. 

The last vestiges of the dream faded.

Zelgadis couldn't remember the last time he'd been knocked out. Drained to the point of collapse, yes. But knocked out? Moving slowly, he looked around. He sat in a chair that didn't seem to be quite built for his body and his sword was missing. A light shone down on him from somewhere overhead.

He moved his foot. The dagger in his boot was also missing.

Not that he was totally unarmed of course . . . nor was he alone.

He sensed someone standing somewhere behind him. Perhaps twenty feet or so.

Someone else was ahead of him.

In the darkness, two blue-white orbs appeared, like eyes opening. He knew those eyes. They had stared at him in his dream.

"Zelgadisgreywords, welcome." The voice was nothing like Zelgadis had ever heard. It was deep, authoritative, with a strange timbre to it, as though it came from a machine. "My name is Khadgar."

"Call me Zelgadis," Zelgadis responded.

"Very well, Zelgadis," Khadgar said. "You have no reason to be inclined to hear what I have to say, but when I entered your mind--strictly to learn your language, I assure you--I noticed that you were a man of honor. Honor is something we value very highly"

"Then why do you ambush people in snowstorms and hide in shadows?" Zelgadis demanded.

"The guard was somewhat overzealous and I apologize. As for the shadows . . . we do not look the same as you. I was concerned that you may find our features alarming."

"I'm alarmed whenever I look in the mirror," Zelgadis replied sardonically. "I doubt that whatever you look like, its worse then this." He indicated his face.

"Very well."

The cone of light vanished and then room lit up. Zelgadis' sword and dagger lay on a metal desk not ten feet away. What was seated behind that desk had to be Khadgar.  
Zelgadis raised an eyebrow.

"I see what you mean," he said as calmly as he could.

* * *

"This is madness!" Baron Jerwell exclaimed as soon as Lina finished speaking. "We are to go to war with Brodaboon on Lady Inverse's word alone" 

"No one's speaking of going to war," the Foreign Minister soothed. "We are merely discussing possibilities of how to deal with this. At the very least, any signs of civil unrest should be more closely examined." The Minister steepled his fingers. "All people grumble about government, that is the way of things. We must determine, however, if what is happening in Brodaboon is simply generalized complaining, a few isolated complaints, or signs of something more serious"

"Such as?" Jerwell demanded. He was a short, stout man with a florid face and little hair. He was the leader of Seyrun's small, but vocal, "Moralists". Amelia had never been able to determine their actual beliefs as whenever questioned to closely, a Moralist tended to start waving their hands and shouting about the state of one's soul. Many of them were Ceiphed cultists. "Brodaboon is a territory of Seyrun and it's been that way for nearly a hundred years"

"They are only that way because Wes got drunk and surrendered to the idiot of a colonel who in charge of my Grandmother's personal gaurd." Amelia's tone was acidic. "Then there was the small matter of Wes having dismissed his council a week previous, and then falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. That was, of course, after he drunkenly stripped every noble in Brodaboon of their noble status because he thought they were invaders from 'beyond the stars'."

"There is still nothing to worry about," Jerwell said dismissivly.

"I beg to differ," the Exchequer said. "Brodaboon constitutes a large portion of the current tax rolls. Much of Seyrun's current population are from Brodaboon or have some Brodaboon in their ancestry. This includes members of the city guard and the military."

"I fail to see why they would rebel," Jerwell replied. "Every Brodaboon enjoys the rights of a Seyrun. We protect them, teach them, what's the problem?"

"The problem," said one of the guild heads, "is that Brodaboon is a territory and many feel that they were conquered. As her highness pointed out, there is no Brodaboon nobility as Wes stripped them all of their titles before he died, nor did he have progeny. Legally, there is no one she can hand the reins to, so to speak"

"So why not name a few nobles?" Lina asked. "Pick some Mayor or something and name him a duke or Lord. Then crown him King. Problem solved"

"Her highness can only bestow titles on citizens of Seyrun," said a noble. "Brodaboons are not, per-say, Seyruns. Such an act would be illegal under the current laws regarding citizenship. We could change them, of course. But it requires a vote of the council in support, and some," here, the noble gave Baron Jerwell a look. "Some prefer things as they are, and vote against"

"There is also the matter of the tax rolls, Lady Inverse," the Exchequer said. "If Brodaboon is turned loose, Seyrun's economy falters. After a century, we are more meshed with them then I would like to think"

"So why not make them Seyruns?" Everyone turned to look at Gourry, who shrugged. "Wouldn't that solve all this?"

Amelia opened her mouth to reply when the doors slammed open and a guard rushed in, his face an expression of terror and shock.

"Highness!" he gasped out. "I . . ."

"That will be all," Zelgadis said as he strode through the doors followed by three very tall figures dressed in full robes with deep cowls. Something about the way the figures moved set off warning bells in Amelia's brain and she found her hand moving towards her sword. The figures weren't human.

"Zel?" Lina asked. "Who're your friends?"

One of the figures stepped forward and a hand emerged from it's sleeve. It was gray in color, had four fingers and definitely unlike anything Amelia had ever seen. The hand pulled the cowl down, revealing an alien face. It was long and narrow, with glowing eyes of blue white. There was no visible nose or mouth.

"Matriarch," it said to Amelia. "I have come to ask for your help. Beg for it if need be. I am Executor Khadgar of the Protoss Templar. My people are dying and I will do any task, pay any price to save them."


End file.
